The Beckoning

This red sunset as if bleeding and defeated, retreats behind the leafless trees of fall. The day surrendering to the night, and letting darkness take control. The cold bleak nights calling to a side of you you've tried to suppress for so long. tonight is different, tonight the craving has returned, and there is no stoping it. You sit despondent holding the instrument of your torture, this blade you love and hate..sitting staring at it, while your mind churns and you try to come up with reasons to stop yourself, but you know this is all for not. Once you've held it and felt it's sharp smooth blade, there is no turning back..

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